


To Bloom

by orphan_account



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Canon Typical Sexual Themes (Kamoshida is unfortunately there), Coming of Age, F/F, Fluff, Humor, Light Angst, Meet-Cute, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:08:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25825660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: A hacker and a gymnast run into each other (literally) on the first day of school.It goes uphill, downhill, sideways, and back from there.
Relationships: Sakura Futaba/Yoshizawa Sumire
Kudos: 85





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My entry for Sumitaba Week 2020 is one long fic with each chapter following the prompt of the day! With that said, I only have two chapters finished, so I am unlikely to get the entire fic done before the end of the week. I'll try my best, though! Just like Futaba and Sumire are. ~~please wish me luck~~
> 
> This is an AU where the Metaverse doesn't exist, Ren went to Tokyo about a year and a half before canon did, and somehow managed to make friends with everyone despite the odds. As for other changes, you'll have to wait and see. :)
> 
> Day 1: Friendship & Shujin

**APRIL**

Sojiro offered to drive them both to Shujin on Futaba's first day, but she refused his offer. She was in high school, she had Ren with her, and she was going to be fine!

She gripped the back of Ren's blazer the entire trip there, knees buckling and face hidden in his back. Why did guys smell so bad? Why did their colognes smell so overpowering? Why couldn't more of them take a leaf out of her brother's book and bathe daily and smell like coffee?

If it weren't for Ren and his frame blocking her from the mass of people pushed up against them, she would have undoubtedly ended up on the floor. And then she would've gotten trampled on and turned into a giant, gross, bloody puddle with bits of hair smeared across the ground as the only indication she'd been there at all.

"I think you should stop watching horror game streams before bed," Ren said. He put the cold bottle of juice he bought for her on her forehead.

Futaba yelped and snatched the bottle out of his hands. "I can handle them! Besides, getting trampled to death is more common than you think. There was a couple of incidents in the States that happened last November—"

Ren put his cold can of coffee—gross, how could he stand to drink that after drinking Sojiro's coffee everyday—on her forehead. "You're doing better than I thought. Want me to walk you to your classroom?"

She batted at him until he removed the can. "Nah, I got it. I promised you and Sojiro I was going to be brave and bold, right?"

"There's no shame in having someone walk you to your classroom on the first day of school. Ryuji did it for me."

"Didn't Ryuji take you to the wrong classroom?"

"Are you saying I'm going to pull a Ryuji?"

Futaba sighed and opened her bottle. "I'll be fine, you big worrywart. I swear, you're more of an old man than Sojiro."

Ren winced. "That hurts."

"Please. I know you think he's cool and you're banking on inheriting Leblanc from him. Seriously though, I'll be fine. Go find your friends."

"They're your friends too," Ren said. He ruffled her hair and nearly made her choke on her juice.

"Ughhhhh!" She stepped out of his reach and backed into another vending machine. "Gross! Can't believe I'm getting bullied before my first day even started!"

"Futaba."

"Aren't you supposed to be looking out for your poor little sister?!"

"Futaba."

"My hair's all frizzy now! What if people think I don't comb it?"

"Futaba," Ren said, and he pulled off his glasses. Ren's eyes were the color of steel, and they cut like a knife. "I mean it. They're your friends too."

She fiddled with the bottle. "Yeah... I know. But I want to make my own friends. I can't be known as that lame-o who's only friends with my brother's friends, you know?"

Ren's expression didn't change, but he put his glasses back on. "You aren't a failure if you can't find new friends on the first day. You'll always have us."

"Gross. Feelings."

Ren sighed, but he had a hint of a grin. "Are you sure you don't want me to—"

"I'm sure!" Futaba's arms hung limp at her side. The juice bottle smacked against her leg. "Besides, I need to psych myself up, and you being here is making me nervous."

He ruffled her hair one more time before he left, and Futaba grumbled to herself as she combed her hair with her fingers. She watched the students mill past her as she worked, and thankfully none of them stopped to grab a drink from the vending machines. There wasn't a familiar face in the sea of black and plaid. Futaba knew five people who went to Shujin, but five against the hundreds of students was statistically nothing. She couldn't, shouldn't rely on her senpais for everything.

No one at Shujin knew who she was. She could reinvent herself. Be anyone she wanted to be! Maybe be a normal girl who...hung out? Went to cafés not owned by her father? Went clothes shopping? What did normal girls even do? She'd never been invested in those things. Hanging out at Akihabara and sneaking glances at the maids was much more her scene.

But people looked down on otaku. She could fake being into normal teen girl stuff, but it wouldn't take long before her interests outed themselves. And faking being normal meant doing normal things like hanging out, having conversations, and not being an anxious mess. What if making friends meant they wanted to visit her room? Sure, Leblanc might be cool to show off, but her room was her sanctuary. She'd have to hide her figures! Get new posters about...bands or some other normal thing. Her battle station would be seen as over-the-top, wouldn't it?

No way. Too much trouble. Too much work. Did she really need new friends? Wasn't it the dream and goal of every underclassman to get their senpai to notice them? She already made friends with so many of her senpai! She already lived the dream!

The warning bell rang. Futaba popped back into reality.

There was no one outside. Crap. She was going to be late for school. Double crap. She was going to have to run for it. Triple crap.

Futaba bolted away from the vending machines and ran up the stairs. She was out of breath by the fourth step, but she pumped her legs and forced herself to continue. Her head was down as she climbed, and Futaba kept it down even when she made it inside.

If she picked her head up, she might have avoided running into someone else.

Futaba screamed when she smacked into another body. The person she ran into also screamed. They clutched Futaba's arms as they teetered dangerously. Futaba's limbs flailed as she tried not to fall. The bottle of juice slipped from her grasp. Futaba looked up and saw a silk red curtain of hair framing a lovely, wide-eyed face.

'She'd look cute in a maid outfit,' Futaba thought as the girl stepped on her juice bottle and brought them crashing to the ground.

Futaba's back and left shoulder collided against the floor. Her bones ached. Here it was, the downside to being an out of shape neet who skipped meals too often: she had no cushioning to ease the landing.

"Why," she said as she flopped to her back.

Next to her, the redhead groaned and pushed herself up into a dainty sprawl. Her glasses were askew and her hair was a mess, but she was still unfairly pretty. Futaba turned her head and gawked at her toned legs, lean body, and graceful pose. She looked like she was Andromeda and her schoolbag the boulder. Futaba probably looked like a dried out starfish.

"A-are you all right?" the girl asked. Even her voice was cute. "Are you hurt?"

Futaba stared slack-jawed into her eyes. Her face was so red it looked unhealthy. Her eyes were so wide it should have been creepy. Her bottom lip quivered so much it reminded Futaba of one of Ren's failed pudding experiments.

'Girl pretty,' Futaba thought. Mercifully, she maintained enough sense to not say it aloud.

"Oh, no," Pretty Girl said. She crawled over to Futaba. "A-are you concussed? How many fingers am I holding up?!"

"I'm not concussed," Futaba said. Pretty Girl recoiled from her volume. "You're holding up no fingers right now, but it used to be three."

Pretty Girl continued to shrink away. She looked less concerned and more shocked.

"I'm sorry for yelling," Futaba yelled. The last bell rang. Crap. Crap to the septillionth power. First day of high school and she was late. She made someone else late.

Futaba tried to get up, but the combination of running up the stairs and colliding into someone wore her out. Her body betrayed her and refused to move. Pretty Girl got up, limbs elegant and poised and holy crap, her legs were so long and bendy and that was not! Helpful! Information!

Despite the panicked look in her eyes, Pretty Girl approached Futaba with an outstretched hand. "Do you need any help getting up?"

The flood of adrenaline spurred by panic made Futaba move. She didn't move well, but she could do some abominable combo of a backwards crab shuffle and a worm squirm.

Pretty Girl snatched her hand back and took several steps away from Futaba.

"I'm good," Futaba said, scuttle-squirming towards the stairs. "Thanks for offering to help!"

"U-um," Pretty Girl said. She looked at Futaba like the devil had possessed her.

"Goodbye! I hope we never see each other again!"

Futaba's head hit the bottom step. She deserved that. She rolled over and climbed the stairs on all fours. This was normal! Her first day of high school was going great!

* * *

"Everything's terrible," Futaba said. Ren passed her a piece of bread. She ate it before she tucked herself back into a ball beneath his desk. "I'm going to drop out and make a living being a gray-hat hacker."

"You're skilled enough for it," Ren said. Ann whacked him with his bread wrapper.

"Don't say that! Futaba, you had a rough start, but I bet you'll look back on this in a few months and have a good laugh about it. Ryuji threw up on his first day of middle school, and he's doing fine."

"Ugh. I'm doomed to being compared to Ryuji. I really will drop out."

"Woah, okay. I see how it is. Guess I won't give ya this instant yakisoba you made me get hot water for."

Futaba stuck her hand out from under the desk and made grabbing motions. "Feed me."

Ryuji sighed. Ren stepped out of his seat, and Ryuji stooped down with a bowl of steaming noodles in his hands.

"Hey," he said as Futaba lifted her head and gazed at the noodles with hunger, "it's okay to have a rough time. So long as you're rolling with the punches and gettin' up, you'll be fine."

He handed the yakisoba to her, and Ren slipped a pair of disposable chopsticks to her as well.

"I know that," she said, "but I really messed up this morning. Not only was I late, I made someone else late! She probably hates me now. And thinks I'm a freak for the weird alien crawl I did. What if she's a gossip? What if I get a reputation of being alien girl, the girl who can't walk like a normal human being?!"

"I'm not gonna say no one's going to do that, because people are cruel," Ann said, "but they'll find any reason to make fun of you if they want to. You can do everything right, but all it takes is a single rumor to get out of hand before you get a reputation."

"It's especially bad if a teacher's the one spreading shit about you." Ryuji stood and scuffed the ground. "Effin' Kamoshida."

Futaba groaned. "I have gym this afternoon... I don't want to go."

"If that bastard starts pickin' on ya in any way, you let us know and I'll kick his ass."

"Ryuji, stop! Makoto's finally got some pressure on him, so don't screw it up by giving him a reason to retaliate."

Ren sat down. "We shouldn't have to worry to begin with."

"I know. Trust me, no one wants Kamoshida gone more than me, but..." Ann sighed. "What can we do? We're already lucky Makoto's on our side. I don't want to think about how much worse it can be if she wasn't."

Futaba sulked and fiddled with her chopsticks. "Maybe I'll skip. Ren, I can hide here until school's over, right?"

Ren reached down and attempted to pat her on the head. He nearly patted her yakisoba instead. "Hate to say it, but you're more likely to end up on his radar if you skip. It's easier for him to excuse targeting 'troublemakers'. If you see or hear anything suspicious, let us and Makoto know right away."

"Why is this so stressful? Maybe I'll bug his office and hack his emails to get him out faster."

Futaba slurped her noodles as the group fell into silence. They were silent for so long she assumed the conversation was over. Thus, when Ryuji shoved Ren's chair aside—with Ren still in it—to stoop down and gawk, Futaba almost choked.

"Can you do that?" Ryuji asked as she thumped her chest. "Get dirt on Kamoshida? Bug his office?!"

"Ryuji!" Ann leapt out of her chair to whack him with Ren's bread wrapper, now purposed to be her personal weapon. "Not so loud! Don't ruin the plan before we carry it out!"

Ren slid over a bottle of water, and Futaba gulped it down before she responded.

"Y-yeah, I could. I'd need a few days to prep the bug, but bugging a room isn't hard or complicated as long as I can get inside his office for a while to work."

" _Dude."_

"Makoto's not going to be happy about this if she finds out."

"Then we don't tell her." Ren leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs. His smile was RPG villain levels of smug. "If we get something damning enough and submit it anonymously, she'll act."

Ann knelt down and joined Ryuji. "Can you really do it, Futaba? Not right away, but bugging his office would be a huge help in getting Kamoshida out."

Her yakisoba went down like grubs, but being relied on made her heart beat in anticipation more than anxiety. It felt good, like fighting a really strong Dim Spirit boss blind and winning.

"Yeah! If I can get into his office, then it should be no problem at all."

The look of hope in her senpais' eyes was almost worth the earlier humiliation.

* * *

Ren convinced her to go to gym, but Futaba lingered in the changing room until the last minute. The choice bit her in the butt not because of Kamoshida, but because Pretty Girl was outside the changing room when Futaba left.

Pretty Girl physically jumped into the air when she saw Futaba. Futaba's stomach metaphorically jumped out of her body when she saw Pretty Girl.

"It's you!" Pretty Girl said.

"AHHHHHHH," Futaba said. She clamped her hands over her mouth and walked backwards into the door.

Pretty Girl looked like she wanted to bolt. Futaba wished she would. But, no, Pretty Girl stuck around and kept talking.

"Oh, right," she said as she dug through her bag. "You left this behind this morning."

Futaba stared at the bottle of juice in her hands. Pretty Girl's nails were neatly trimmed. Nothing like Futaba's half-chewed claws. Her fingers were long and slim, but the skin on them looked kind of rough. Like she used them a lot. A pianist, maybe? It wouldn't have shocked Futaba if someone as elegant and pretty as her played the piano.

"Um... S-sorry, is it weird I hung on to it? I thought, um, you'd like this back because I've left things behind before and always felt bad afterward, so... I, um..."

Pretty Girl bowed so quickly Futaba worried her spine snapped.

"Sorry! I'm sorry for bothering you! I-I can leave the juice behind and leave! Goodbye! I apologize for intruding!"

Oh god. Pretty Girl was almost as awkward as Futaba. She was in love.

"No, no! You're fine! Better than fine!"

Pretty Girl remained in her bow. Should Futaba lift her up? Tell her to stop? No one prepared her to deal with incessant apologizers!

"I-I'm the one who should be sorry for making you late! And scaring you! And telling you I hoped we never saw each other again! And for the weird alien shuffle!"

Pretty Girl lifted her head up. "Oh. Um, I actually thought the move was cool... I couldn't stop thinking about it; I'd never seen anyone move like that before, and it looked really challenging to do."

Futaba's jaw dropped. Pretty Girl thought the alien-worm crab shuffle was _cool_?!

"You're not making fun of me, right?"

Pretty Girl's eyes widened as she shook her head. Her hair fanned out around her. It looked so soft. Futaba didn't know girls like her existed in 3D.

"No! I really do think it's cool! I'm actually a—"

"Yoshizawa-san," a booming voice said, "you're still here? I didn't realize you liked being around the gym so much. Guess that's to be expected of a top notch gymnast like yourself."

Kamoshida appeared out of nowhere and put a hand on Pretty Girl—on Yoshizawa's shoulder. He smiled at her, but the smile dropped off his face when he noticed Futaba.

"Who's this? Are you supposed to be in gym right now?"

Futaba couldn't get any farther away without merging with the door. She knew Kamoshida was tall, but seeing first hand how he loomed was something else.

His hand on Yoshizawa's shoulder was wrong; he could easily engulf her face with his palm. The hand was a monstrous thing—he was a monster. A late game boss seen too early, blotting out the ceiling lights and ready to snuff out her life.

"I'm so sorry, Kamoshida-sensei," Yoshizawa said, and her voice was the anchor that steadied Futaba's runaway thoughts. Futaba dragged her eyes away from Kamoshida's imposing bulk. Yoshizawa was much easier to look at. Her voice wasn't intimidating. Futaba's legs shook a little less.

"It's my fault she's not in your class right now," Yoshizawa continued. Her hands were clutching the juice bottle, and her posture was hunched in and closed. "She helped me out this morning, and I wanted to thank her. I didn't realize how much time had passed..."

Kamoshida sighed and squeezed Yoshizawa's shoulder. Yoshizawa grimaced, but she covered it up by lowering her head.

"Since it's you, Yoshizawa-san, I'll let it slide this one time. Wouldn't do for one of our star athletes to get in trouble on her first day, hm?" He looked at Futaba. Futaba tried not to scream. "You, what's your name?"

Oh, _shit_. "S-S-Sakura, s-sir!"

"Sakura, get moving. Tell the others to start stretching. I'll be back once I've escorted Yoshizawa back to her classroom."

Futaba's creep alarms went off. She looked at Yoshizawa's bowed head, tight posture, and Kamoshida's hand on her shoulder.

"A-actually," Futaba said, taking a shaky step forward, "I'm r-really bad with directions. Could you show me where the gym is?"

Kamoshida looked at her like she was the dumbest person alive. Futaba agreed with him.

"It's straight down the hall. Double doors at the end."

"I'm really, _really_ bad with directions!"

Kamoshida glared at her, and it was so much worse than anything the other kids had ever given her. Kids were mean and cruel, sure, but they didn't have experience to back up their looks of hate and disdain. Futaba's body trembled. She teared up. No. Crying was bad. Showing weakness would invite more bullying. But maybe it'd be good in this situation? If Kamoshida thought she was pathetic, maybe he'd leave Yoshizawa alone.

"Kamoshida-sensei," Yoshizawa said, back curved and shoulders pressed forward, "I can get back on my own."

Kamoshida sighed again, but he took his hand off her shoulder. He turned towards the gym.

"This way, Sakura. Yoshizawa, please return to your classroom."

"Yes, sir," Yoshizawa said. She looked at Futaba with gratitude in her eyes and mouthed a silent thank you before leaving. Her red hair trailed behind her like a cloak of flames.

"Sakura!"

Futaba eeped and followed Kamoshida on shaky legs.

* * *

Futaba survived her first day of high school. Somehow. Didn't burst into tears once, even though there were some close calls. She made it through the tutorial; every day after would be the real challenge.

She flopped on her desk and lay there, arms hanging over the edge. People trickled out of the classroom, and Futaba couldn't decide if she was grateful or insulted no one stopped to talk to her. It figured. She was late on the first day, stuttered through her introduction, and then showed up late to gym with a ticked off Kamoshida. Yeah, her class definitely hated her.

"Woohoo," she monotoned into the desk. "Hard mode unlocked."

The classroom emptied. Her phone vibrated. Probably Ren, checking on how she was doing. She needed to send him a reply before he did something embarrassing like picking her up in person.

She was in the midst of texting him back when the classroom door opened. A familiar face stuck her head inside.

"Oh," Yoshizawa said. "You're still here. I'm, um, really happy."

Futaba's phone slipped out of her hands and clattered against the desk. She fumbled for it too late and smacked her hand instead.

"Hurk," she said. Yoshizawa rushed in and wove through the desks.

"A-are you okay, Sakura-san?!"

Futaba groaned from embarrassment rather than pain and clutched her hand. "Just peachy! U-uh, what br-brings you here?"

Yoshizawa stopped a desk away and flushed. She turned red way too easily. Futaba felt like she just learned some dangerous information.

"Oh! Well, uh, I wanted to thank you for earlier. With Kamoshida-sensei."

Yoshizawa whispered his name and ducked her head. Futaba grimaced.

"No, you don't need to thank me. I-I do get lost easily! And I made you late for class this morning, so we can call it—"

"I...wasn't late. My older sister and I had a meeting with the administration before class, so our teachers knew we would run late. But, um, that's why I wanted to thank you. Most of the students seem to love Kamoshida-sensei, but Kasumi felt something off with him, and I-I was intimidated by him... Anyway, I didn't think anyone else found him unsettling, so I— I—"

Yoshizawa bowed so low Futaba thought she was going to brain herself on a desk.

"Th-thank you! I truly appreciate what you've done for me, and I would like to offer this as a token of my appreciation!"

"No, you don't have to—"

Yoshizawa placed a bottle of juice on Futaba's desk. It was the same kind she left behind and never took back. This bottle was new. Unopened. Still cold.

"Oh... Thank you."

"It was the least I could do. The bottle from this morning seemed sad, so I rinsed it and recycled it. You deserve something better than room temperature juice."

Futaba felt herself tear up. She wasn't going to cry. If Kamoshida and being late didn't make her burst into tears, then a nice girl buying her a bottle of juice wasn't going to either.

"I'm sorry! This is really weird, isn't it? You don't have to accept it if it makes you uncomfortable!"

"Nuh uh," Futaba said. She sniffed. No crying. No crying allowed! Crying was not a free action! "Thank you. It's...super nice of you."

The bottle of juice was cool in her hands. The film of condensation felt much better than the sweat on her palms.

Before she could stop herself, Futaba looked up at Yoshizawa and blurted out: "Do you want to be friends?!"

She slapped a hand over her mouth out of reflex but forgot to let go of the bottle. It smacked her in the face, and the chill of the bottle alerted her to how hot her face was. Crap. Infinite crap.

Yoshizawa turned into a mannequin. Futaba threw the bottle onto her desk and clapped her hands together. She held them in front of her face and hunched more than bowed.

"O-oops! Weird question! You don't have to answer! I-in fact, let's forget this ever happened, okay? You can forget about me entirely!"

"Yes," Yoshizawa said, loud enough to drown out Futaba's rambling. "Not about forgetting you, but about being friends! I'd love to be friends! I...didn't think I'd make a friend on my own so soon..."

Futaba stared at her. "Seriously? But you're—" Pretty was not appropriate. "—cool!"

Yoshizawa stared back. "You...think I'm cool...?"

"Uh, yeah? I mean, I don't really know you, but you seem pretty cool to me."

Yoshizawa, to Futaba's horror, looked like she was going to cry. "You're not just saying that because of gymnastics or my older sister, are you?"

Crap. Were those things supposed to be a big deal? Futaba was going to look them up online. "Uh..."

Yoshizawa looked ecstatic at Futaba's hesitation. Futaba had no idea what was going on anymore.

"You really don't know anything...but you still think I'm cool?"

Yoshizawa sniffed. Oh, no. Futaba screwed up. She was going to look up Yoshizawa's entire family history once she got home.

"Sakura-san, I'm so happy."

Or...not. Maybe she'll avoid looking up anything about Yoshizawa if it made her happy enough to cry, and _holy crap what was going on_?!

Futaba patted her pockets. "I-I don't have a tissue! Crap, I'll run into the bathroom—"

Yoshizawa pulled out a handkerchief. Fancy. "No, it's all right. I'm sorry for getting emotional. I really want to be friends with you, Sakura-san. Although," she sniffed, "I don't think we've properly introduced ourselves yet."

"Oh! Right! Duh! I'm Futaba Sakura!"

"Sumire Yoshizawa. It's good to finally meet you, Sakura-san."

Yoshizawa bowed again. Futaba scrambled to her feet and returned one far less graceful.

"S-same here, Yoshizawa-san! I, uh, humbly thank you for accepting this pledge of friendship. The contract has been sealed!"

She wanted to bite off her own tongue, but Yoshizawa's giggling changed her mind.

"Contract accepted! I am in your care."

They both rose, and when they met each other's eyes, they fell into a fit of laughter. That was how Ren found them when he came to check on Futaba.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 2: Soulmates | Flowers
> 
> I went with flowers! And I ran out of completed chapters, so no guarantees I'll finish the next one by tomorrow... Ahahaha... I will finish the story, though, even it if it kills me.

**MAY**

Yoshizawa was a bit of an enigma. She was pretty, smart, and talented—Futaba heard whispers of how the two Yoshizawa sisters were first and second place finishers in national tournaments—but chose to hang out with Futaba whenever her packed schedule allowed. Sure, she was shy, easily flustered, and prone to apologizing, but those made her cute. Super cute.

"I don't get it," Futaba said one lunch break. "You should be way more popular than you are. I mean, I'm super happy you like spending time with me, but I'm shocked you don't have a group of people hanging off you."

Yoshizawa froze, chopsticks stilling on layer two of her stacked bento. "I... I'm not popular at all. My older sister gets most of the attention. Before you, Sakura-san, most of my friends came from Kasumi. They were her friends who happened to tolerate me."

"Oh. I get that." She looked down at her instant yakisoba bowl. "Before you, all the friends I had were Ren's—my brother, kinda—friends. They all like me, but you're the first friend I've made on my own in a long time."

Yoshizawa smiled, and Futaba would never cease to be amazed at how she changed. Yoshizawa was meek as a lamb, but every once in a while, she'd open up and shine like she reached her limit break. She was dazzling. Radiant. It took Futaba's breath away.

"We have a lot in common, don't we? I'm really happy we ran into each other."

"L-literally!" Futaba said. She shoved way too much yakisoba into her mouth before she could say something stupid. Yoshizawa said they had a lot in common, but Futaba doubted it. In a few ways, sure, but Yoshizawa was pretty and cool and a jock. How long would it take before she realized she was too cool to hang out with someone like Futaba?

"Yes, but I think it's a good story now. By the way, I've noticed something about you. This isn't a judgment call or anything of the sort, but I don't think I've ever seen you eat anything besides yakisoba."

"It's my staple food." Here it came. Yoshizawa noticed how weird Futaba was, how ingrained her habits were. Well, it was nice to have a friend of her own while it lasted.

"That means you must love it. I-in that case, would you mind sampling some of mine one day? I'm trying some new recipes for our lunches; Kasumi said she wanted to have carbs that weren't rice, so—"

Futaba tuned out the rest of Yoshizawa's sentence. Was she hearing things? Yoshizawa's lunch looked professionally made and nutritiously balanced for whatever jock activities she did. Yoshizawa made them herself? And for her sister? And she wanted to cook for Futaba? Was Futaba dreaming? Dying? Maybe she choked on a noodle and this was the scenario her oxygen-deprived brain conjured up in its last moments.

"—Sakura-san?"

Futaba nearly threw her yakisoba. "Oh! Sorry! I'm processing. Did you say you want to cook for me?"

"Yes...? Kasumi always praises my cooking, but she's not objective. I'd like your honest opinion."

"Yeah! Of course! Won't it be a lot of work for you?"

Yoshizawa looked down at her bento. "It's fine. I have to cook a lot already, and I enjoy doing it. It's one of the only things I'm good at."

"Oh my god. How are you so perfect?"

Yoshizawa's smile grew pinched. "I'm not perfect... Far from it. Kasumi's the perfect one."

Kasumi. Another enigma. Futaba never saw the mysterious older sister Yoshizawa spoke of, but she heard a lot about her through the rumormongers at Shujin. Kasumi Yoshizawa was a late game NPC everyone couldn't stop bringing up and singing praises about. Whether she was an NPC destined to help the heroes or hurt them had yet to be determined. Futaba wasn't genre savvy enough with the real world to determine. Looking her up was also unthinkable, because doing so would lead down a rabbit hole of Futaba stalking both sisters and their family on social media and...that wasn't what friends did. Being a good friend was more important than her curiosity.

It didn't mean she wasn't curious about Kasumi, though. She was curious enough to try tailing Yoshizawa after school in hopes of seeing a glimpse of her sister when they went home together, but Yoshizawa's schedule was erratic. Futaba swore she had the ability to be in two places at once sometimes.

"How do people do it?" she asked Ren one evening. "I mean, I know how _you_ do it. Does everyone do the same thing? Neurotically plan their days based on fifteen minute intervals?"

Ren ate one of her chips without asking. "I'm not neurotic; I'm thorough. I'd never remember who was free when if I didn't write it down."

"Pfft. Nerd."

He took her entire bag as retaliation.

"Some people get energized when they have a lot to do," Ren said. He snapped his planner shut and hoisted the bag over his head, where Futaba couldn't reach without climbing on top of the table. "I don't get it myself. Most days I feel like I can only do two things."

"You liar," Futaba yelled as she braced a knee on the table. "I've seen you run all over Tokyo to shop."

"Shopping and riding the train are free actions."

"No, they're not! Gimme back my chips, you lying liar face!"

"Futaba, get off the table," Sojiro said. He rubbed the back of his head and sighed. "Ren, give her back her chips."

Ren placed the bag of chips on the table and ruffled Futaba's hair. "If you're curious about her schedule, why not ask her yourself? You're friends, right?"

She battled his hand away and stuck her tongue out. "I guess..."

"Problem solved. I'm heading out. Ohya wants to interview me about Shujin."

Sojiro shook his head. "Again? What's going on in your school?"

Ren's shrug gave nothing away. "We had two national placing gymnasts enroll this year. Can't blame people for getting excited."

National... Futaba heard the rumors, but she thought they were only rumors. She really knew nothing about Yoshizawa.

Ren had a point. They were friends. It was time Futaba sucked it up and asked.

* * *

"Huh?" Yoshizawa asked as she unpacked her larger than usual lunch box. They were eating on the roof today, Futaba having convinced Haru to leave the door unlocked for them. "You want to know about my schedule? It's nothing special; my life revolves around gymnastics, so it's mostly filled with practice and spending time with Kasumi..."

"Then do you mind talking more about them? Your sister and your gymnastics, I mean. You don't have to if you don't want to! I just realized I don't know a lot about either topic even though you bring them up, so I thought I'd ask for more deets. Only if you're comfortable with sharing, of course!"

Yoshizawa's mouth was a pale thin line. "There's...not much to say. Kasumi was the one who got us both into gymnastics. She's better at it than I am. She's also prettier and more social than I am."

Yoshizawa was still. Futaba scrambled for something, anything, to say. This was a mistake. She wouldn't ask again.

"W-well, she's older, right? So she had more time to practice!"

Yoshizawa's breath stuttered. Crap. Wrong dialog choice.

"B-besides, I don't know your sister. I don't care about her! Uh, in a not-rude way, I mean. You're the only Yoshizawa I know, and I think you're cool and smart and kind and p-pretty! And I'm glad you're not a super extrovert, because then there'd be too many people around you and I'd get too anxious to talk to you."

Yoshizawa looked at Futaba like she just shape-shifted into a dragon in the middle of their conversation. Why, _why_ couldn't she go more than a week without acting like a space alien?

"Sakura-san... Thank you. I'm really glad I'm friends with you."

Oof, critical hit. Even after all her blunders, Yoshizawa still wanted to be friends.

"M-me too. I can't believe you'd want to stay friends with a weirdo like me."

"No!" Yoshizawa said, and the word held more emotion behind it than anything else she said so far. "You aren't weird! You're kind and creative, and I can tell you think deeply about lots of things. I... I'm so glad I met you and can talk to you." She fidgeted with her bento and lifted the top layer off. "U-um, anyway, this is for you."

Futaba stared at the bento box for a second before taking it.

"Wait, seriously? You made lunch for me?"

"Yes. Please tell me what you think. There are more vegetables and meat in it compared to most recipes I found, so the taste and texture might be off."

Futaba ripped off the lid and drooled. The bento was packed full. Golden, glistening noodles lay entangled with three different kinds of non-dehydrated meat. There were plump, pink whole shrimp, white velveted chunks of chicken, and tender morsels of beef. Hearty sticks of carrots and leeks added splashes of color. Slices of onion and cabbage permeated the dish.

This was nothing like instant yakisoba. Heck, this was better than some of the stuff she had at restaurants!

"Oh my god," she said. A sniff flooded her nose with the mouthwatering scent of the dish. This... This was the stuff of legends! The legendary yakisoba of myth! And it was all for her!

She felt herself tear up again.

"S-Sakura-san? Are you all right?! You look like you're about to cry!"

"I'm fine! Totally fine! Yoshizawa, this... Do you know how incredible this is? This is an SSR yakisoba you've made!"

"Is that good?"

"It's the best! Amazing! Super, super rare! The stuff of legends! I'd whale thousands of yen for it!"

"I wouldn't say that without tasting it," Yoshizawa said, but her face was flushed and there was a pleased grin on her face.

Futaba picked up a portion and ate it. The taste was divine. It was just as good as it looked.

"Oh my god. This is so good. I'm gonna cry."

Yoshizawa's face grew impossibly redder. "You're just saying that..."

"No! You've seriously ruined me for any other yakisoba in the world. I wanna live in this!"

Yoshizawa's bright smile banished the fog of gloom hanging around her. It was the best seasoning she could have added to the dish.

"Thank you. It means so much to me hearing you say that. I'm really happy I have the approval of a yakisoba expert like you!"

"I'm so ruined. I don't know how I'm going to eat the instant stuff ever again."

"I'd be happy to teach you how to make it. Ah, as long as it was after the 22nd."

"Is something happening?"

Yoshizawa looked down. The smile waned. "There's...a gymnastics meet. Kasumi and I are competing. It's preliminary for nationals, so I can't afford to be distracted."

'Do you even like gymnastics if you react like this when you talk about it?' Futaba wanted to ask. But even she knew better than to ask. That was a rank 8 or 9 question, and they were only at rank 2 or 3.

Instead, Futaba asked: "Is it open to the public? Could I come watch if you're okay with it?"

Yoshizawa snapped her head up. "You...want to watch me?"

"Yeah. If you're okay with it. I wanna cheer you on!"

Yoshizawa smiled again. "I'm touched... Most people who come only do so out of obligation, and I know they're really there for Kasumi, not me... You really want to watch me perform?"

"Of course. We're friends, right? I'll clap and cheer for you as loudly as I can! Can we throw plush toys onto the stage like in ice skating? Or should I stick with flowers or something?"

Yoshizawa laughed. "No plush toys, please. Flowers... I've never received flowers from anyone my own age before... I'd like flowers."

"I'll...buy you flowers! The nicest flowers there are! And I'll clap extra hard and yell extra loud! Oh, no, don't say something like, 'Wait until after you've seen my performance to decide if I deserve it,' missy. If your gymnastics is anything like your cooking, it's going to be legendary."

"Stop! You're going to give me an inflated ego."

"Maybe you should have one. Okay, I've made up my mind. I'm going to cheer you on like you've never been cheered for in your life! And I'll bring you a huge bouquet! Oooo, what if I threw rose petals as you performed? You'd look like something that popped right out of a shoujo anime—"

Futaba clamped her mouth shut. Ugh. She managed to go weeks without giving away her power level, and now she ruined it. Yoshizawa was going to realize what a loser she was at any moment.

"Do you watch a lot of anime? I've only seen a few myself, but I enjoyed them. I'd like recommendations if you have any."

Her brain registered Yoshizawa's words as a critical error at first. Yoshizawa...watched anime? Of course she did. Most people did; they watched it casually and didn't stay up until four in the morning reading fanfic and rechirping fanart. Yoshizawa thought Futaba was like her. Maybe a little more well versed, but certainly not the otaku she really was.

"Uh, yeah. I guess I have a few recs. I-I mean, I'm not an expert or anything, but I've seen a small number! What genres are you into?

'Stay cool,' Futaba reminded herself as Yoshizawa began describing her likes. 'Stay normal. Don't mess this up!'

* * *

Futaba lay face down on Leblanc's attic floor and groaned.

"I messed up. I didn't play it cool. I wrote a list of my top ten, ranked them, told her about the three episode rule, and then outed myself as someone who buys doujinshi. She thinks I'm an otaku now."

"You _are_ an otaku," Yusuke said. Before Futaba could retort, he spoke again. "Akechi, did you truly play three 8s in a row?"

"It's a legal move."

"You're a legal ass," Ren said. Futaba heard the unmistakable sound of someone getting punched in the stomach, followed by Ren's pained wheeze.

"Aaaand this is why I stopped playin' Tycoon with Akechi," Ryuji said. "Ain't worth the headache."

"Oh, look," Akechi said in his ultra-fake tone of voice that made Futaba's teeth ache. "A revolution."

Everyone disliked that.

"Anyway," Ann said as the Tycoon game devolved into a massacre, "I don't think she hates you or anything, Futaba. From what you've told us about Yoshizawa, she doesn't sound like the type who'd hold being an otaku against you."

"I agree," Makoto said. "I've spoken with both sisters, and they seem to be genuinely kind. Besides, we don't judge you for your hobbies. I don't believe most people would unless they were already cruel."

"What if she is?! What if she's like Akechi, all nice on the outside but has a heart of tar?"

Akechi claimed Tycoon and turned his attention to Futaba. "Excuse me, I resent that remark."

"Good. Resent it more, detective boy."

"At least I'm rich," Haru said as Yusuke and Ren duked it out. "But Futaba-chan, I agree with the others. I'm sure Yoshizawa-chan won't think any less of you. In fact, she might find it impressive!"

"Ugh," Futaba said. "Uuuuuggghhhh."

"Well, I'm poor," Ren said. "I'm taking a break. Anyone want a drink? Not you, Akechi; assholes don't get free drinks."

The fight was broken before it started with a well-timed throat clearing from Makoto. Everyone migrated downstairs to Leblanc. There was only a single disliked customer, so they packed themselves into two booths without concern. Much to Futaba's dismay, the conversation topic returned to her and Yoshizawa.

"There's a lot of gossip going around those two," Ann said, "but they're mostly centered on Kasumi Yoshizawa. What I've heard about Sumire always revolved around her as well, so I have no idea what she's like."

"She's shy," Futaba said. "Really nice. Kind of anxious." Low self-esteem, she didn't say. Prone to apologizing. Might have a complex about being younger. Gets depressed when her sister or gymnastics are mentioned. Couldn't see her own value.

"She's a great cook as well," Futaba ended up saying. Ann's eyes went wide.

"Oh, no way! You've tried her cooking?"

Futaba felt the urge to dunk her face into her curry. "She, uh, might have...made me a bento. Full of yakisoba. Because she noticed I ate the instant stuff every day."

Haru clapped her hands. "Oh, yes! You asked me to leave the roof door unlocked the other day. Was it because of Yoshizawa-chan?"

"Urk," Futaba said. Could she drown in curry? Probably, but doing so would make Sojiro sad. "M-maybe."

"You're so sweet! I'm sure she appreciates it. I can leave the door unlocked whenever you want, as long as Mako-chan is all right with it."

Makoto sighed. "I'm not supposed to, but if you two are only eating lunch there, then I don't see the harm. Just keep it to yourselves and lock the door after."

Oh, good. No one noticed her awkward reaction. "Sure thing. I don't want to lose my people-free lunch spot."

Next to her, Ren sipped his coffee in a way that almost always portended doom for someone. Futaba hoped it wasn't for her. "What else do you know about Yoshizawa?"

Crap. "Uh, w-well, she's a gymnast, but everyone knows that." She could feel his eyes on her. Double crap. "She embarrasses easily." No! Wrong detail! Turn back! "She wanted me to attend her gymnastics meet on the 22nd!"

Ren took another sip of coffee but thankfully remained silent. The same couldn't be said for Yusuke.

"A gymnastics meet... How fascinating. I am always impressed by the capabilities of the human body. Perhaps I shall accompany you."

The thought of Yusuke tagging along made Futaba's stomach sink. Why? What the hell? It was a gymnastics meet. Open to the public. Yusuke could tag along if he wanted, so why was she so against it?

"I don't think I'm doin' anything either," Ryuji said. "Maybe we could make it a group event."

No. No, no, no.

"Oooo, yeah! We can all show support for the Yoshizawa sisters! And athletes need to eat a huge meal after competitions, right? We can all get crepes!"

No, no, no, no, no.

"Dude, just say you want to eat crepes and be done with it. Ain't gotta make up an excuse."

"Eating crepes is totally a social event."

"No, it ain't."

No no no no no no.

"Maybe we shouldn't overwhelm Yoshizawa," Ren said. Futaba almost hugged him. "If she's shy and anxious, having a group of strangers show up to cheer for her might be too much."

"Yeah," Futaba said. "She's more anxious than I am about things! You guys should stay away!"

Haru glanced at Futaba with a knowing glint in her eye. Futaba wanted to die. "I'm certain Futaba-chan will introduce us to her when she's ready. For now, we should let them deepen their relationship at their own pace."

"A large group may be overwhelming, but surely one other person would not be?" Yusuke nodded at her. "Futaba, I request you introduce me to Yoshizawa and any other gymnasts you may know!"

"No way! First, the only gymnast I know is Yoshizawa. Second, I'm not going to introduce her to an eccentric like you. You're going to do something weird and perverted like asking her to strip!"

"How dare you! There is no perversion in the nude human form! Bodies are not meant to be sexualized! They are pure, chaste vessels, not to be tainted by thoughts of—"

"You're the only one who thinks that way!"

Akechi set his coffee cup down with a deafening clink. "Ah, we're back to schoolyard arguments. The conversation here is always _riveting_."

"Shut up. I know your FO3 username."

Akechi glared at her. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Moving on," Makoto said loudly, "I just received word that Shujin will be participating in some sort of community service at the end of the month. I don't know what we're doing yet." She dropped her voice to a whisper. "I wasn't told why, but it may have something to do with the rumors about Kamoshida leaving the school. I'm hoping this won't cause the administration to loosen their watch on him."

"Effin' Kamoshida," Ryuji grumbled. "Man, I can't wait until we bug— Ow! Ann!"

"Bug?" Akechi said, looking at Ryuji like a shark who scented blood.

"Bug?" Makoto said, looking at Ryuji like a disappointed parent. "Please tell me you aren't planning anything stupid."

Futaba stared at her plate of curry and reconsidered drowning herself in it.

"Ahahaha," Ann said. Oh, no. The jig was up. "B-bugs...like crickets! We were thinking of releasing some into his office! Where they could hide! And chirp really loud! And slowly drive him nuts! Hahaha... Won't it be sooooo funny?!"

"You know," Akechi said, and Futaba didn't need to look up to know what sort of insufferable expression he was wearing, "even if it's for something harmless like crickets, you could argue a prank such as that constitutes criminal mischief."

"Why you gotta be a narc?" Ryuji asked.

Futaba shoveled a spoonful of curry into her mouth and ignored the ensuing mess. At least they stopped talking about Yoshizawa.

Once everyone left, Futaba helped clean up. A mistake, because Ren cornered her as she washed dishes.

"So. Yoshizawa," he said, and Futaba yelped. "I see."

"What do you mean you see? There's nothing to see!"

He patted her on the head. "There's nothing wrong with having a crush."

Sojiro, who remained a silent bystander throughout all the earlier chaos, spoke up. "What?! Futaba's got a crush?"

"No, I don't!" She flicked soapy water at them both. "No crushing! None at all!"

Sojiro closed his eyes and sighed. "Well, you are that age... And it is only a crush, right? Nothing serious?"

"There's not even a crush going on! It's platonic admiration! ...P-probably."

"Hoo boy."

"Yeah. I think she has it bad."

She flicked more water at them. "I'm right here! It's not a crush! I don't know her well enough!"

Ah, crap.

Sojiro opened his eyes, but his expression didn't change. "'Her,' huh? At least the chances of teen pregnancy are lower." He ignored Futaba's anguished screaming. "Still, be careful. Don't jump into anything you aren't ready for."

"SOJIRO!"

"And you should bring her over sometime. I promise not to embarrass you."

"AUGH."

Sojiro raised his hands in surrender. "I'm only stating I've got no problem with you bringing over your crush, girlfriend, whichever. It'd be nice to actually meet who my kids are dating."

He gave Ren a Look. Ren shrugged it off.

"I've never dated anyone in my life."

"Kid, you're not as good at lying as you think you are."

Futaba crawled underneath the counter and tried to wipe the last five minutes of her memory.

* * *

Futaba managed to convince herself she didn't have a crush on Yoshizawa for about a week and a half. Her flimsy denial shattered when Yoshizawa brought her another bento full of yakisoba. This one was somehow better than the last, and it blew Futaba's mind so much her brains dribbled out of her ears. There was no other explanation why Futaba would blurt out a marriage proposal after the first bite.

She was ready to throw herself off the roof when Yoshizawa laughed.

"If you keep praising me like this, I wouldn't mind!"

Yoshizawa wasn't flushed. She meant the statement as a joke, but joke weapons were deadly in the right hands. Futaba didn't stand a chance. Her HP hit zero, but Yoshizawa's six-star, SSR, limited edition yakisoba revived her.

A little over a month of knowing her, and Futaba was crushing hopelessly on her friend.

"I'm so stupid," Futaba said into Ren's sofa. "My first friend I made by myself in forever, and I have to go and ruin it by getting a crush."

Ren made a sympathetic sound as he tinkered with the parts Futaba needed for her bugs. "You aren't stupid for getting a crush on someone you're close to. These things happen. What you decide to do with your feelings is the bigger issue."

"I'm going to bottle them up until they fade, duh."

Ren set down his pliers. "What if it doesn't work? Some feelings don't diminish by ignoring them. Sometimes they keep building until they explode."

"Then I'll move to the mountains and become a hermit."

"Futaba."

"I'm really good at suppressing my feelings!"

"So am I. Which is why I'm telling you it won't always work."

"What am I supposed to do, then? Confess? No way!"

"I'm not saying that. I'm saying you shouldn't bottle up your feelings. You can be honest to yourself without confessing. It might hurt, but the honesty will prevent them from becoming something negative and distorted."

Futaba raised her head and looked at him. Ren's eyes were covered by a glare of light on his glasses. If she didn't know better, she could have mistaken this for his villainous origin monologue.

"You say it like you've got firsthand experience."

Ren tilted his head so the glare became more pronounced. "Maybe."

"Ugh, no hints, huh? You're being super hypocritical about this."

Ren shrugged and grabbed the parts off his desk. "Here you go. Make your magic, but take your time. We don't have a plan yet."

She let him dodge the subject and took the parts. "Eh, things usually have a way of working out when you're involved."

"I hope some of that luck rubs off on you. What are you planning to do when you go to her meet?"

Futaba nearly threw the parts at his face. "Oh, so we can talk about me, but not you, huh? I see how it is. Well, for your information, I was going to get her flowers. A nice bouquet. Because she said she'd like them."

Ren rubbed his chin. "Flowers, huh? I could help with that. I can take a shift at Rafflesia that day and help you make a bouquet."

"You'd really do that?"

"Of course." Ren smirked. "Can't let my little sister woo Yoshizawa's heart with a second-rate bouquet, after all."

She threw the parts at him.

Still, even with the teasing, it was good to know that he had her back. The days and weeks passed in a blur. Classes were picking up, although they failed to be challenging. She was learning the personalities of her classmates and teachers. She got used to being around the buzz and bustle of Shujin's hallways. She wasn't making as big of a fool out of herself around Yoshizawa as she feared.

The 22nd hit, and Futaba rolled out of bed earlier than she ever had on a Sunday. Yoshizawa had gotten her a special ticket that would let her watch from the floor, where coaches and family were. Futaba spent more time than she ever had on getting ready, which was ridiculous because she was going to see a friend perform! That was all! It wasn't going to be a date! There were going to be lots of people there! It was more a boss rush than anything else!

She joined Ren as he headed into the Shibuya Underground Mall. She loitered nervously as he helped open Rafflesia and get her bouquet together.

Twenty minutes later, he handed her a stunning bouquet of primarily blue and violet flowers. It was so large she had to hold it with both hands.

"Nemophila for success, irises for good news and hope, laurel leaves for victory, and violets for sincerity," Ren said. "This bouquet should last for a few hours, too."

"Holy crap," Futaba said, trying to find a way to carry it easily. "This looks amazing. She's going to love it!"

Ren smiled. "I hope so. Are you going to be okay getting there by yourself?"

"P-probably. No, I'm definitely going to be okay! I have to do this. I wrote in my promise list that I was going to be brave and bold this year, right? Well, this is part of fulfilling that promise." She inhaled and tried not to crush the flowers. "I can do this."

"Sojiro and I are just a phone call away," Ren said. "Call or text us if you need anything."

"Oh, stop worrying," she said even as her stomach and heart swapped places out of nerves. She never took the train by herself... It was always with Ren or someone else she knew. Today, however, she was going to go to a new location by herself. She memorized the route. She could do this. She was going to be fine.

Futaba held the flowers close to her chest and gave Ren an awkward little wave. "All right, I'm off! I'll tell you all about it when I get home!"

She could do this. She was going to be fine. This was a simple boss rush. No biggie. She'd been leveling up all these weeks for it.

She left the underground mall and almost crushed the stems out of panic.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 3: Video Games | **Gymnastics**

**May**

Despite her intentions, the bouquet got crushed. The train was packed on such a nice morning, and each jostle bruised the petals. Each accidental brush of someone moving past made her mash half the stems to pulp.

Most people who interacted with her were kind. Many tried to leave what little space they could around her once they saw her carrying such a lovely arrangement. One woman even tried to give her tips on how to preserve the flowers and prevent them from getting crushed, but the anxiety ringing in Futaba's ears drowned out the advice.

Futaba sprinted out once she arrived at her stop. She ran until she found a secluded counter, then huddled down into a ball and hyperventilated into the bouquet.

This was a mistake. She didn't grind enough to keep up. Her health was critical, she had no healing items, and she hadn't even made it to the stadium. Half the flowers started to wilt, unable to withstand the dual assault of the subway and Futaba's neurosis.

What was she doing? She should have let Yusuke tag along as a guest in her party. This wasn't a private affair. Yusuke would have been able to distract her from her own brain. He could have held the flowers, shielded her, kept them going instead of giving up halfway.

But Yusuke wasn't here. It was only Futaba, the sad bouquet, and who knew how many people between the station and the stadium. She had forty minutes to get there before the meet began. It'd take fifteen minutes to walk there.

She could do this. If she pretended the people were students in Shujin's hallways, then she could get through them. All she had to do was keep her head down. Move quickly. Think only of the destination.

She loosened her grip on the bouquet and felt the strangled stems go limp. Crap. No. Don't think about it. There would be time to swell on her failures once she arrived. She stood up. Ignored the buckling of her legs. Took one step. Then another.

She remembered nothing about the trip to the stadium. She only realized she arrived when she couldn't figure out where to go next. The ticket Yoshizawa gave her was digital. Futaba cradled the bouquet in one arm as she pulled out her phone with the other. She swiped past the ticket four times.

Futaba staggered over to a bored usher and held up her phone in lieu of speaking. He scanned the QR code, paused when it beeped, and pointed lazily towards a side door.

"Personal guests go in through that door," he said. Show the guards your ticket and they'll let you through.

She thought about thanking him, tried to thank him, but it took every last drop of energy she had to walk to the door and go in. There was a hallway on the other side. The AC was on full blast. It was freezing. She shivered from the cold, and her body trembled even more. She couldn't hold on to the bouquet. Her phone. Herself. But there was nowhere to hide in the bleak, cold white hallway. She'd have to give up in the open. Huddle into a ball where everyone could see her cry.

"Hey," someone yelled, and Futaba dropped the flowers. "What are you doing here? The public entrance is outside."

'Show them your phone,' a part of her brain screamed at her. 'You have a ticket! You're supposed to be here!'

She couldn't. She couldn't do anything. She was weak and stupid and a mess. Why was she here? What was she doing?

"Hey, you okay? Aw, geeze."

This was a mistake. She wasn't high level enough. She barely scraped by the boss rush, and there was an entire dungeon still to explore. No healing. No items. No save points. She got too cocky. There were no cheat codes in reality. Those had to be entered before you started the game, and she hadn't been so lucky.

"All right. It's all right. I got your flowers, see? And your ticket's still up, so if you move your thumb a little, I can scan it and help you get to your seat."

It was too cold. The lights were too bright. Someone was too close. She was so stupid.

"Oh, you're here for Yoshizawa-san? Yeah, she's real good, isn't she? Okay, you're at the right place. I'm sorry for yelling. Can you stand up? She's going second, and the first routine's about to start."

Yoshizawa... That's right, Futaba was here for Yoshizawa. She promised. She wrote it down on her promise list. She'd let not only Yoshizawa down, but also Sojiro and Ren if she didn't go. She'd let herself down.

"M-my f-flowers," she said. She tried to uncurl, but her body wouldn't obey.

"I got 'em," the guard said. "It's okay, I can hang on to these. Very nice flowers, by the way. I'm sure she'll love 'em. Can you get up? Woah, easy. I can escort you to where you need to go. You'll be all right once you're there, right? Her parents and coach are there."

There were other people there. There were people important to Yoshizawa there. God. What was she doing? She wouldn't be able to talk to them. They'd think she was weird.

"Okay, let's take a step. There you go! How about another? Okay, you got this. We can make it in time to see Yoshizawa-san's routine. She'll be real glad to see her friend cheering for her."

Futaba was doing this for Yoshizawa. Who cared if her family and coach thought she was weird? Futaba _was_ weird, and Yoshizawa wanted to be friends with her anyway. She made yakisoba for Futaba anyway. She invited Futaba to watch her perform anyway.

They were friends.

She was walking. Slowly, but she did it, one step at a time. There was a guard? Ticket checker? Someone official looking. They held her bouquet. Great, she was the NPC on an escort mission. 

The hallway was still freezing, still too bright, but she'd be out of it soon. There was a door at the end. She could make it there for Yoshizawa.

"Hey, good job. We're almost there."

"Th-thank you," Futaba said. "C-can I have m-my flowers back?"

The guard returned them, and she almost snuffed out what remained of the bouquet's life with her grip. No. Relax. The flowers were for Yoshizawa. They were already bruised. She didn't need to make it worse.

The guard opened the door, and the swell of noise almost made Futaba drop them again. She crushed the stems in her hands.

"Look, there's where her family is. Let's get you over there."

They walked over as the speakers blared. People clapped. The sound was nothing like she'd ever heard before, resonating all around her in ways the best headphones in the world couldn't replicate. She tried to drown it out. Tried to pretend it wasn't there even though she could feel the vibrations of sound. There weren't hundreds of people here. They were just NPCs following a script. Everything was fine.

"You must be Futaba-chan," a man said once she arrived. His eyes reminded Futaba of Yoshizawa. "I'm so happy to meet you! Sumire told us quite a bit about you."

No. She wasn't ready to meet the parents. "M-my name is F-Futaba Sakura." No, wait, he already knew. Crap. Why was she so bad at this?!

"Hey, Yoshizawa-san," the guard said as Futaba stuttered uselessly, "she's a little overwhelmed."

His expression was understanding. No! That was worse! "I see... Well, Futaba-chan, Sumire's in the back, mentally preparing with Kasumi. I'm sure she'd be delighted to see you! I can bring you to her, if you'd like."

"No!" Futaba yelled. She didn't want Yoshizawa to see her like this. "I-I'll be fine here. She's p-performing soon, right? I'll wait. Here."

"Uh," the guard said, "it's actually—"

"I'm fine! I promise! J-just n-need time to collect myself!! Please! I'll b-be fine once I see her in action!"

There were other people staring at her. One of them looked like she was Yoshizawa's mom. Another woman looked nothing like Yoshizawa, but she was toned and looked at home in a way Futaba was jealous of. She wanted them all to stop staring. 

"Please! I j-just need to calm down!"

"All right," Yoshizawa's father said. His eyes were kind. Familiar. "Let me grab a chair for you, okay? We can put you right here, where it's relatively quiet, but you'll still have a great view."

"Thank you," she said meekly.

The announcements started again as a chair was brought over, but Futuba didn't hear any of it over the guilt of inconveniencing everyone. Yoshizawa's father assured her she did no such thing, and then pointed out Yoshizawa's mother and coach to her. Thankfully, he didn't make her talk to them. By the time introductions were done, the coach had slipped to the back. Yoshizawa's father moved to sit with his wife, and Futaba was left alone, uncertain of where to look. It got quiet. It felt like being in an empty room in a dungeon with a save point. Yoshizawa's coach returned from the back with Yoshizawa at her side.

Futaba knew nothing about gymnastics or fashion, but she knew Yoshizawa looked radiant. Her leotard was pastel pink and so sequined she sparkled with each step. She held her head high as she walked onto the floor. She looked ahead with no hesitation or fear and moved with complete confidence. She was like a different person.

Futaba knew jack-all about gymnastics, but even she could tell Yoshizawa was a natural born performer. She was bold and unapologetic. Her limbs moved with a confidence that made Futaba jealous. Yoshizawa _winked_ at the audience and judges.

She watched Yoshizawa jump and twist and glide like gravity was an afterthought. Her routine was so captivating that Futaba forgot about her anxiety, forgot about the crowd and noise, forgot about the bouquet and their poor, crushed stems.

Yoshizawa was beautiful. A force of nature.

Why the hell was she friends with someone like Futaba?

The performance ended. The applause was deafening. Yoshizawa stood poised and posed as the spotlight shone on her. She was radiant. Beaming. A goddess who descended from the heavens and transcended earthly laws.

Futaba nearly joined the fevered applause before she remembered the half-crushed flowers she held. Crap. Damn. She promised Yoshizawa that she'd bring her flowers! How was she supposed to give Yoshizawa the sad, limp bouquet she crushed because she was an anxious mess? Yoshizawa was an anxious mess too, but this facet of her—this confident goddess who just got a bunch of high scores from the judges—was so far above Futaba's level!

It was pointless. Yoshizawa might have said she wanted someone to bring her flowers, but she meant someone who was cool enough to match her. Not some frumpy neet who couldn't take public transportation alone without freaking out.

Bringing Yoshizawa flowers was a stupid idea.

But she promised, didn't she? Not just Yoshizawa, but Ren and Sojiro as well. She was going to be bold and daring. Would push herself to do things and fail at them and be okay because failure was okay.

So crushing the flowers was okay! She'd gotten here by herself! That was still a success in its own way! And even if Yoshizawa decided she didn't want to be friends with a 3chan trolling freak like Futaba, that was okay as well! Failure was okay. She still had chances to make friends. She could do this.

Yoshizawa got off the floor, and Futaba seized her chance. Futaba walked out towards her and her coach, hands trembling and crushing the remaining stems into liquid. This was the worst decision she made in her life.

"Y-Yoshizawa," Futaba said as Yoshizawa's coach clapped her on the shoulder. "N-nice performance! T-t-these are f-for you!"

She thrust the drooping bouquet towards Yoshizawa's face, then bent herself into a right angle as she bowed. Wait. Crap. This was the love letter confession pose, wasn't it? That was what the girls in anime always did! No, damn it, she was supposed to be playing it cool! Why? Why was she failing every basic stat check so badly!?

"Oh," Yoshizawa said. Futaba might have had a level 1 social stat, but even she could hear the hesitation in Yoshizawa's voice. "Thank you! It's not often I get flowers from female fans my own age! These flowers are lovely. Could I get your name?"

Futaba jerked her head up. Yoshizawa's expression was picture perfect in its polite curiosity.

"Uh, it's me? Futaba... Saku...ra..."

She recalled Yoshizawa's comments about her sister. Her older sister. Her older sister who also did gymnastics. There was no mention of her being an identical twin, but Yoshizawa didn't have a mole. And her hair was more red than brown.

"You're Sakura-san? Sumire's new friend!" She took the bouquet from Futaba's hands. "Thank you so much for coming out to our competition! Sumire's going to be so happy to see you here. She was worried you weren't going to show."

Oh, shit.

"Haha...hahaha," Futaba said as Kasumi Yoshizawa tried to make the bouquet look alive again. "W-well, you know! Gotta support my friends, ahahaha!"

Futaba stared at the ground and tried not to curl up into a little ball. Maybe, if she was lucky, an earthquake would hit, Futaba would get knocked out by debris, and then develop amnesia and forget the whole thing ever happened.

"Well, Sumire's up to perform four sets from now. I can let her know you're here so you two can spend some time together!"

"NO!"

Yoshizawa— Kasumi's eyes went wide. "I-I mean, I want to surprise her! Yeah! A-and I have to go to the bathroom anyway, so I don't have time to talk! Bye!"

Futaba ran even as Kasumi Yoshizawa called after her. Crap. She wasn't going to cry in public. She wasn't. She was going to lock herself in a bathroom stall first, like any normal, well-adjusted person would.

The public toilet lid was probably filthy and would give her some sort of contagious disease, but Futaba sat on it anyway. She pulled her legs up so she could become a ball and use her own knees to muffle her sobs. The distant sound of the next gymnast's name and applause drowned out some of her crying. Good. She hoped whoever was performing was so spectacular no one was going to pee during their performance.

She was so stupid. What was the point in being smart and gifted if she couldn't do something as basic as supporting a friend?

Through her tears and smudged glasses, Futaba pulled out her phone and texted Ren. 

> **Futaba** : i fucked up
> 
> **Ren** : Where are you? Do you need someone to pick you up?
> 
> **Futaba** : at the stadium
> 
> **Futaba** : i'm so stupid
> 
> **Ren** : What's wrong?
> 
> **Futaba** : i'm so stupid
> 
> **Futaba** : they're twins
> 
> **Futaba** : identical 
> 
> **Futaba** : i mistook kasumi for sumire
> 
> **Futaba** : i shoved the bouquet at her
> 
> **Futaba** : and now i'm crying in a bathroom
> 
> **Ren** : Do you want me or Sojiro to get you?
> 
> **Futaba** : no
> 
> **Futaba** : i want to be less stupid
> 
> **Ren** : You aren't stupid. You didn't know she was a twin, right? Anyone could've made that mistake.
> 
> **Futaba** : i gave the flowers to kasumi
> 
> **Futaba** : and now i'm hiding
> 
> **Futaba** : why can't i be normal
> 
> **Futaba** : why am i always failing stat checks
> 
> **Futaba** : i'm supposed to be better than this
> 
> **Ren** : There's no such thing as normal. You're fine the way you are. You're working on your weaknesses and doing so much to overcome them.
> 
> **Futaba** : she's going to hate me when she finds out
> 
> **Ren** : Yoshizawa thinks of you as a friend. I'm sure she understands, if she's as kind as you say she is. It's hard, but talk to her. 
> 
> **Futaba** : oh god she always seems depressed when she talks about her sister
> 
> **Futaba** : that's why
> 
> **Futaba** : i thought kasumi was a goddess when she performed. thought she was perfect and beautiful
> 
> **Futaba** : sumire's shy and anxious and she has a complex 
> 
> **Futaba** : that's why
> 
> **Futaba** : i fucked up
> 
> **Ren** : You didn't fuck up
> 
> **Futaba** : i can't do this
> 
> **Ren** : I promise you you didn't fuck up. Call me?

Futaba did not call him. Instead, she tucked her phone into the space between her thighs and her stomach, wrapped her hands around her knees, and sobbed. 

Stupid. So stupid. Yoshizawa— Sumire was the first friend she'd made by herself in years, and she mistook her sister for her. She couldn't even tell them apart. What kind of terrible friend was she? No, she couldn't call herself a friend at all... She was just some weird, lame, stupid otaku who couldn't socialize right. No matter how much she leveled up, nothing was going to change. She didn't have a socializing skill tree at all. 

Her phone vibrated.

She knew—she _knew_!—Sumire had a complex about her sister and gymnastics, and then Futaba went and screwed up and made Sumire's worst nightmares come true! Sumire had been nothing but sweet and kind and supportive of Futaba and all of her weirdness, but Futaba... What did Futaba do? Nothing but mess up. Made Sumire's nightmare a reality. 

Her phone kept vibrating.

And now she was hiding in a bathroom and crying because she was too much of a coward to go and explain herself. To go see Sumire and be there for her and let her know that she was there. God, Kasumi was probably going to take the ugly, crushed up flowers to Sumire, and then Sumire would realize Futaba saw Kasumi and realize what had happened. What if she got depressed? What if she screwed up her routine because Futaba screwed up? Futaba ruined everything for her. Some friend she was.

Her phone stopped vibrating for a second before it started again.

There was no way she could apologize for that. No way she could ever make it up to Sumire for ruining her chances at nationals because Futaba was too stupid to tell her apart. Why? Why was she so bad at this? How did people do it? How did people go through life and interact with others when every interaction had the chance to irrevocably hurt another person? How were people that strong?

Her phone vibrated off her lap and landed on the gross bathroom floor.

"Crap," Futaba said through her sobs. She leaned down and picked up her phone. Ren. Of course. She even got him mixed up in her problems. He was still supposed to be at work. 

She was an absolute failure of a human being. 

"I'm sorry," she said through a face full of snot and tears and despair. "I'm so stupid."

"You're not stupid," Ren said. His voice was soothing and familiar, but it didn't make her feel better. "I promise. Do you want to breathe with me?"

"Y-yeah..."

He guided her in breathing. She asked him about his work, but he refused to answer and kept her focused. She spent who knew how long listening to his voice and forcing air in and out her lungs. Her body shook a little less. Her head pounded, but it felt clearer. She put her legs down.

"Sorry," she said again.

"No, don't be. Do you want to go home?"

She didn't. She wanted to see Sumire perform. Crap. How much time had passed? Did she miss Sumire's performance entirely?!

"Inhale," Ren said. "Keep going. Hold it in...and let it go. There you go. Inhale again?"

She spent a few minutes breathing, then stood up and had to lean on the wall in order to stay upright.

"I have to go," she said as he head spun. "I don't want to miss Sumire's performance."

"Are you sure?"

"I can't screw this up anymore," she said, holding the phone between her ear and shoulder as she tore off a long string of toilet paper and wiped her face with it. "I have to go. I have to see her. If nothing else, I have to do this right."

"Okay, good luck."

"Thanks," she said, then ran out of the stall. She stopped to wash her hands not nearly as well as she should have, and then she bolted back.

Sumire was already performing.

"Crap," Futaba whispered, but she didn't have time to berate herself. She watched Sumire hawkishly from the entrance, not wanting to mess even a nanosecond more than she already had.

Whereas Kasumi was bold and unapologetic, Sumire was...soft. Emotional. Kasumi moved like she had nothing to fear. Sumire moved like she had a story to tell. 

When Futaba watched Kasumi, she thought of her as an untouchable goddess. Beautiful, radiant, and too bright to get close to. Sumire, however, wasn't a goddess... She wasn't even a princess. Sumire was a person. There was nothing unapproachable about the way she moved, but it only made her raw and real in a way that tore at Futaba's heart. 

Kasumi was flash and confidence and color and excitement. Sumire was grace and quiet and layers upon layers of emotion. She was human. Her performance was a question, a prayer, an expression of hope and despair.

Futaba clapped harder than she ever had in her life when Sumire finished. Yelled louder than she ever had. 

She tasted tears when she approached Sumire. Sumire, who was being hugged by her coach. Sumire, whose legs were shaking. Sumire, who was being pulled into a group hug with Kasumi.

Futaba hung back. She felt like an even bigger fool when she saw the two of them together. They had the same face, sure, but the way they moved, held themselves, and emoted were completely different. They were the same height, but Kasumi felt bigger, felt like she took up more space through force of personality alone. Sumire felt smaller, and her tendency to shrink in on herself didn't help. 

Yet, looking at them both, Futaba realized she was drawn to Sumire more than Kasumi. Kasumi wanted to be seen, but Sumire felt like a privilege to see.

The bottom of Sumire's face was covered up by the arms of her family, but Futaba could see her eyes lock onto her own. They widened and lit up, and for a terrifying moment Futaba thought Sumire was mad, upset, disappointed that Futaba brought ruined flowers to the wrong person—

"Futaba-san," Sumire called out, voice muffled by the bodies pressed against her. "You came!"

Futaba nodded. Her body jittered with the motion. She was shaking again, wasn't she? "Y-yeah! Your performance was amazing!"

Sumire broke free of the hug and ran up to her. Without her glasses, her eyes were stunning, and they were focused solely on Futaba. Not fair. This was an attack Futaba had no resistance or defense to! The only thing she could do was take the hit and hope it wasn't an instant KO.

"Thank you so much for coming," Sumire said. There was a thin sheen of sweat on her skin. She was still panting from her performance. Some of her hair had flown out of her bun and was sticking to her neck like aged spider silk. "Um, did you come alone?"

Futaba nodded. She couldn't speak. The risk of blurting out something about how beautiful Sumire looked was way too high.

"I'm really happy you came... Kasumi showed me the flowers. They're beautiful! I really liked the violets... Seeing them eased a lot of my pre-performance anxiety."

"I-I'm glad!" She was squeaking. Crap! "Your performance was really cool... I-it felt like I was watching you tell me a story through your movements!"

Sumire's mouth fell open, but no words came out. Her eyes widened, and she looked at Futaba like she'd just sprouted a single wing and entered the next stage of her boss fight.

"I-I mean," Futaba said, trying to salvage the situation despite not knowing what she did wrong, "your performance had a lot of feeling behind it! L-like you were trying to reach out to someone. I mean, I don't understand a thing about gymnastics, so you shouldn't listen to what I have to say. B-but from the perspective of a total noob, your performance touched me! Right here!"

She thumped her chest and nearly buckled over from the force. Ow. Okay. She had a higher strength stat than she remembered, but no constitution. Good to know.

"Thank you," Sumire said. She lowered her head, and for a horrifying second, she looked like she was on the verge of tears. But then she lifted her head again and looked Futaba in the eyes. The second hit was a critical hit. Complete KO. "It means...everything to me to hear you say that..."

"U-uh," Futaba said. She was helpless and defenseless before Sumire's sincerity. Outclassed and outmatched in any way. She made it through the boss rush, somehow got through the dungeon with a NPC's help, made it through one boss fight, but was completely unprepared for the final boss to be Sumire herself. "I-I'm, uh. Y-you're welcome?"

Sumire smiled, and Futaba was pretty sure that wiped out her save file in addition to her health.

"All right," Kasumi said, hooking her arm around Sumire's. "Sakura-san, do you want to come eat with us once this is over? Mom and Dad always take us on a celebratory meal, and I'd love to chat with you more!"

Oh god. No, no, she wasn't ready for that right after getting KOed by Sumire! "Um, uh, actually—"

"Futaba-san might be busy," Sumire said. "Your father runs a cafe, doesn't he? Did you need to be back to help him?"

She was going to marry this girl one day. "Y-yeah... D-don't get me wrong, I'd love to come, but I can't leave Sojiro to work alone! He might, uh...get crushed...from the rush..."

In her head, Futaba apologized to Sojiro for the blatant lie she told about Leblanc. 

"Oh, that's a shame, but it's really cool your father runs a cafe!" Kasumi smiled at Futaba. It felt like Kasumi was always smiling. "We should visit it one day, shouldn't we, Sumire?"

"Yeah... I'd like to visit if that's all right with you, Futaba-san."

"O-of course! I'll be sure to, uh, let Sojiro know! B-but I really have to go, so—"

They announced the name of the next gymnast. The crowd began to hush.

"You can sneak out of here if you need to," Kasumi said. She winked at Futaba. "You already saw the most important acts today."

Futaba gave her thanks and ambled out of the stadium on shaky legs. The sunlight hit her right in the eyes when she walked out, and she squinted at her phone. Outside, in the warm sunlight and away from the cold, stale, air conditioned air, it felt like she had warped to some new location. Some new dungeon to explore.

She couldn't do it. Not alone. She needed backup.

She texted the group chat with shaky fingers, asking for help. Even with the brightness turned all the way up, it was hard to see the responses. Haru, bless her, offered to pick her up.

Haru didn't tell her she'd be picking up Futaba in a fancy car with a driver.

"H-holy crap," Futaba said as Haru opened a door and gestured for her to come in. "Primo ride!"

"I thought you might have preferred something with less people involved," Haru said once she told the driver where to go. "I like taking the subway, but you've already had to make quite a trip."

"You're so nice, Haru," Futaba said. She meant to play up the sobbing in a joking sort of way, but her body had other ideas. Tears rolled down her cheeks as the car took off. "Everyone's...so nice..."

"Futaba-chan? Oh, no, did it go badly?"

"Yes. No." Futaba shook her head. "I'm a big dummy." 

Haru gently pressed a handkerchief into Futaba's hands, which she used without reservation. It smelled like flowers. 

"You're not a dummy," Haru said, pulling Futaba in for a sideways hug. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Futaba tried and failed to not get snot on Haru's handkerchief. She gave a truncated version of her day, sobbing through most of it, and Haru said nothing but held her tighter at the appropriate times.

"It didn't sound like she took it badly," Haru said. Futaba gave up the pretense and blew her nose into the handkerchief. 

"Yeah, but... I still mistook Kasumi for her. Even if she didn't realize, I want to apologize."

Haru rested her head against Futaba's. "You're really kind, Futaba-chan. Wanting to be so honest with her, even though you could have continued on without saying a word... Your honesty says so much about you."

Everyone was too nice. She hadn't recovered enough health to deal with it. "I'm not a kind person. Sumire just deserves better."

"You really like her a lot, don't you?"

"Uuuuugh." Futaba dropped the snotty hanky on her lap and covered her damp face with her damp hands. "I don't want to have a crush! Crushes are stupid! Girls have cooties!"

Haru laughed so hard Futaba _swore_ she heard a snort.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day Four: Grief | Anxiety

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't finish the fic. :( But I did write a summary of everything I had planned for the rest of the story. If anyone wants to take and use the ideas, rewrite this, whatever, feel free to do so! No permission needed. Sorry, guys, and thank you to all who read.

Futaba meant to talk to Sumire about the mix up and apologize, but a combination of nerves, rumors about extortion hitting the student body, and Sumire being away from class for more training—what the heck, she just finished a meet and had to immediately train more—made it near impossible for Futaba to have any kind of communication with Sumire other than texts. 

It was kind of a relief to hear Sumire and Kasumi volunteering for the park clean up at the end of the month, even if Futaba was dreading the actual clean up portion of it.

"Uuuuugh," she said as she clung on the back of Ren's tracksuit. "Outside time..."

"We get the rest of the day off," Ren said, shuffling as quickly as he could with her adhered to his back. "You can track down Yoshizawa and talk to her afterwards."

"Ugh. I bet I'm going to find something radioactive to clean up in the park. And then I'll turn into a mutant."

"You might get super powers that— Oh, is that Yoshizawa and Yoshizawa?"

She pushed Ren away as best she could, which wasn't a lot, and then stood straight and did her best impression of a Normal Person.

"Stop smirking like that!" Futaba said to him as the twins waved to her and headed over. To the Yoshizawas, she said: "H-hey! You two heading over to Inokashira Park?"

"Yep!" Kasumi said, beaming at them both while Sumire gave Futaba a smile that made her stomach do cartwheels. "We're _technically_ exempt, but I think it's a good idea to pitch in with community service! Sumire agrees, don't you?"

"Yeah," Sumire said. "The park is a wonderful place, and it's nice to be outside for a day."

"Hahaha," Futaba said flatly. "Outside..."

"It's such a nice day, too," Kasumi said as Sumire gave Futaba a sympathetic look. "Oh, by the way, I don't think we've met before. Are you one of Sakura-san's friends?"

"Brother," Ren said. "Kind of. Ren Amamiya. Nice to meet you both."

Both Sumire and Kasumi bowed, and even their bows were completely different. Futaba was used to seeing Sumire's flustered, anxious bows by now, but seeing Kasumi's picture perfect bow was...oddly intimidating. 

"Kasumi Yoshizawa, and this my sister, Sumire! It's a pleasure to meet you, Amamiya-san." Kasumi rose, Sumire following a second after. When Sumire rose, she gave Kasumi a look of concern.

"Are you both heading to the park now?" Kasumi asked. She took a step towards Ren and gazed at him with sparkles in her eyes. Sumire's look of concern suddenly made sense. "We should all go together!"

Futaba clamped her mouth shut just in time to avoid saying anything incriminating. Ren, the lunkhead, hadn't noticed anything and nodded in his usual way, oblivious to Sumire's worried and semi-panicked look she was giving her sister. 

"Sure. The more the merrier." 

Futaba screamed internally.

It wasn't a surprise when Kasumi stood near Ren when they boarded the train. Ren was a stone wall of self-expression at times, and normally Futaba found people's attempts at flirting with him to be comical and entertaining. Sumire's concerned expression, however, sucked all the fun out of it.

"You okay?" Futaba whispered to Sumire as Kasumi chatted away at Ren. "You seem kind of tense."

Sumire jerked her head up and down. "We can talk about it later... Now's not a good time."

She had a point, and Futaba hoped whatever Sumire was concerned about wasn't going to be too bad, because she still needed to talk to her about the flowers. And the mistaken identity. And the fact that Futaba was a level one scrub pretending to be a level 80 veteran. 

The actual clean up was...not great. They got shuffled off into random teams of three, and Futaba didn't know anyone in her group. She stuttered through introductions, ignored their attempts at conversations, and wandered farther and farther away until she couldn't hear them or their inevitable gossip about how weird she was. Being out in the sun sucked. It was hot. The garbage smelled bad. Something bit the back of her hand. Her hair was a mess because she didn't tie it up. 

She gave up after a while and wandered around in an already cleaned area. There were a few stray pieces of trash no one picked up, and she used those as an excuse to herself for loitering. When Makoto told everyone to wrap up and break for lunch, Futaba nearly shouted for joy until she realized that meant standing in line for a bowl of soup. Standing in the crowded line. The crowded line that wasn't dispersing because half the girls at Shujin were gaga over some new hotshot therapist they hired.

If they had the rest of the day off, she could survive until they got back to Leblanc... Yeah, the soup probably wasn't even that good! A scrub meal for scrubs! Which she was one! She was so hungry.

"Futaba-san?"

Futaba did not jump out of her skin when she heard Sumire call her, which was an accomplishment. Or maybe she was too tired. Either way, she barely eeped, managed to turn around like a normal person, and blinked rapidly at Sumire, who held two bowls of soup. 

"Oh! Hey! Uh, how was your cleanup?"

Sumire's mouth was pressed into a white line. "Not...ideal. Um, I grabbed you a bowl of soup if you're up for eating with me?"

Why was she such an angel? "You sure? Shouldn't you bring that to your sister?"

Sumire stared at one of the bowls. "Kasumi's already grabbed hers. She's eating with some friends and talking to Doctor Maruki. I, um, didn't feel like hanging out, and I said earlier today I would talk to you later, so— Only if you're up for it!"

"Of course I am! Uh, I have something I want to apologize to you about anyway."

Sumire looked up. She wore her contacts again, and Futaba really couldn't handle being stared at like that without her stomach deciding to class change into a gymnast. "H-huh? Apologize? What for?"

Futaba grabbed a bowl from Sumire's hand and gestured towards a bench with her head. "Let's sit down! And you first. Mine's—" _Going to make you hate me._ "—something that should be saved for last."

The soup was not scrub food, but it was wasted on Futaba. "S-so, uh, your sister and Ren..."

Sumire winced. "I'm so sorry... Please tell your brother I'm sorry if she made him uncomfortable in any way. Kasumi can be a little boy crazy... Not in a bad way! But she can be too friendly and familiar, and sometimes it causes misunderstandings..."

"Honestly, there's a fifty percent chance Ren didn't even notice she was into him. There's also a fifty percent chance he noticed and doesn't care, so, uh... It should be okay as long as she doesn't get her hopes up?"

Sumire gave her a startled look. "Oh... I don't think she'll get too attached to him. They probably won't interact much outside of us—" 

Sumire dropped her chopsticks. Futaba tried to grab them, but her reflexes were only good in games, not in real life. 

"That's right!" Sumire shouted as Futaba watched her chopsticks land on the grass. "I'm so sorry! I-I forgot to ask you if it was all right to refer to you by your first name, but I've been doing it for days!"

"Huh? What? Oh, that? I, uh, don't mind at all. I mean, I've been calling you 'Sumire' too... Although a part of that was because it felt weird calling you 'Yoshizawa' after meeting Kasumi."

"I don't mind! I...like hearing you say my name." Futaba felt like she took an arrow to the heart. "I mean, people refer to me as 'Yoshizawa' so often that it feels like I'm indistinguishable from Kasumi... Worse, sometimes they use her given name but use our family name when addressing me. I actually love it when people call me by my name. I'm kind of pathetic, huh?"

"NO," Futaba yelled. Some birds took off in the distance. In a much more respectable volume, she said: "I don't have a twin, so I won't be able to fully understand, but it'd drive me nuts too if I was always referred to as a unit. Or being constantly compared to someone else... Um. I'll keep calling you Sumire! A-and you can just call me Futaba! I-I'd really like that!"

It was so, so easy to make Sumire turn red. She blushed at everything. Futaba's heart and stomach did cartwheels, which was unfair because she couldn't do one. 

Crap. How was she going to apologize to Sumire now? If she heard that Futaba mistook Kasumi for her— No way. It'd crush her. Futaba couldn't be that cruel!

But Sumire deserved to know, didn't she? It was important to be honest with a friend, wasn't it? A good relationship was one built on the truth. Not lies. She'd read enough shoujo manga and fanfic to learn that much.

"H-hey, Sumire? Um. You can get mad at me. I-in fact, I'd prefer it if you got mad at me! But, uh. I kind of mistookKasumiforyouwhenIfirstsawher!"

Sumire blinked at her blankly for a moment as she processed Futaba's word vomit. Futaba knew exactly when she finished processing because all the red receded from her cheeks and her expression fell. "Oh."

"I'm sorry! I know it's not an excuse, but I didn't realize she was a twin, so I saw her from a distance and thought she was you and I panicked and gave her the bouquet!"

"Futaba..."

"I know you two are completely different now! There are subtle ways your faces are different, but more than that, you two are completely different people! Kasumi's outgoing and bold, but she's kind of scary to me and I don't know why. You're a little anxious and shy, but you're comfortable to be around! I feel like you're safer and more understanding! And you listen!"

"Futaba—"

"And your performances were really different too! Kasumi's was really aggressive, but yours was so moving... I wanted to cry from all the feelings you were expressing! I really meant it when I said your performance felt like a story, because it felt like you were speaking to me through—"

Sumire moved her bowl of soup from her lap to the bench, then grabbed Futaba's shoulders.

"Futaba!" she yelled, and she turned red again when more birds flapped away. 

Futaba sealed her mouth shut. Her body shook. Some of the soup spilled onto her tracksuit. 

"I...didn't tell you I had an identical twin because everyone always prefers Kasumi over me. She's perfect, and I'm a mess... I knew that, but

* * *

And this is where I lost steam for the fic. The rest of this chapter plays out as such:

Sumire insists that it's her fault Futaba didn't know about Kasumi, and therefore Futaba doesn't need to blame herself for mistaking Kasumi for Sumire. Futaba, however, sees that Sumire is lying about it, but Sumire insists it's fine. They go into June with things being tense between them, and Futaba hates the strain on their relationship. She becomes increasingly anxious about the situation. Sumire becomes increasingly anxious as well, and with their relationship strained, Futaba doesn't know the right way to help her.

One day, as she's supposed to be teaching Ren and Ryuji on how to use the bugs, she blurts out her concerns re:Sumire instead. Their advice basically boils down to communication, although there's some contradictory advice about whether she should press the issue or give Sumire space.

Futaba decides to just prove that she likes Sumire for Sumire instead of tackling the issue head on. She invites Sumire to Leblanc (insert a scene where Ann, Ryuji, and Ren come in laughing about how they pranked Akechi at the TV station, only to find him already at Leblanc and ready for revenge), teaches her about video games, watches anime with her, etc. In return, Sumire tries to teach her some basic stretches, goes shopping with Futaba, and continues to make lunches for her. Their relationship becomes less strained, but Futaba notices Sumire is still anxious and still depressed. She's afraid to breach the subject, however, and wonders if all friendships were meant to be this fraught.

And then, towards the end of June, Kasumi gets into an accident during PE and shatters her leg.

Sumire is distraught, and Futaba is distraught because Sumire is distraught. Kasumi's in the hospital, but there's no way she'll be able to compete for the rest of the season, and since her leg got crushed by a fallen beam, it's going to take even longer for her to recover and go through physical therapy.

Futaba goes to visit Kasumi once with Sumire, and she's shocked by how Kasumi's putting on a brave face and playing it off like it's nothing. Seemingly not even bothered or upset that her gymnastics career has been delayed, if not ruined. She notices the more of a brave face Kasumi puts on, the more upset Sumire becomes. She can't tell if Kasumi realizes this or not, but she also doesn't think it's her place to say anything.

**CHAPTER FIVE**

Futaba attempts to distract Sumire when appropriate. June is ending, and Futaba asks Sumire what her summer plans are at the end of July. Sumire tells her there's a gymnastics meet in the middle of July. She then breaks down. She tells Futaba that she can't do it without Kasumi, and she barely got second place at the last meet. She doubts she'll be able to place, and since they're both here on a scholarship, if she messes up, then it's going to reflect badly on Kasumi as well. 

Futaba, once again, has no idea how to respond, and she feels useless holding Sumire as she breaks down. She wishes desperately for better social skills so she isn't useless at something as basic as comforting a friend.

She tries to be an even better friend, inviting Sumire over to Leblanc and feeding her free coffee and curry, but it has little effect on Sumire's mood. She confesses her concerns to the PT during a paper crane folding session for Kasumi, and is given somewhat contradictory advice. A few days later, she takes in the cranes to Kasumi at the hospital, and while there, she blurts out to Kasumi that Sumire is hurt by Kasumi trying to be strong and upbeat. She tells Kasumi that Sumire probably thinks of herself as weak and pathetic because Kasumi isn't being honest with her, and Kasumi's hurting Sumire instead of helping her by pretending everything's all right.

She then flees, realizing she overstepped boundaries, and attempts to hide from Sumire at school. Luckily for her, the gymnastics meet happens and she manages to avoid Sumire for a few days. Once Sumire returns, however, she tracks Futaba down and quietly asks her if she spoke to Kasumi. Futaba stutters out a yes, and Sumire thanks her. Sumire then apologizes for being too weak and useless to even talk to her own twin, which Futaba refutes. Futaba apologizes for getting involved in Sumire's business, and Sumire confesses that she's happy Futaba got involved, but she also hates that Futaba felt like she had to. She tells Futaba that she's going to work on being a stronger person. Not for Futaba's or Kasumi's sake, but for herself as well, since she hates how much she inconveniences the people she cares about.

Futaba encourages Sumire. They spend the summer hanging out and visiting Kasumi, who is much more open about how much she hates her situation. Sumire convinces Futaba to start exercising with her, and Futaba treats Sumire to a few anime marathons. Their summer break passes as well as can be expected. Distracted by Sumire, Futaba doesn't pay attention to Ren's slightly shifty behavior, and when she does ask, he brushes it off as nothing.

A few weeks later, they go on a beach trip with the rest of the PT, and Futaba briefly bluescreens seeing Sumire in a bathing suit. It's a fun time, and Sumire's even smiling and laughing. Futaba goes home feeling great about it, hopeful about the start of the second semester.

A day into the second semester, Kamoshida suddenly confesses to all of his past accusations. On top of that, he confesses to rigging the gym so that a weakened ceiling beam was never fixed, and then further rigging it and manipulating events so Kasumi would get crushed by it. 

**CHAPTER SIX**

The confession sends shocks throughout the school. Kamoshida resigns, and Maruki gets swamped with students seeking advice. Rather than offer any additional guidance, however, the principal launches an investigation into if anyone blackmailed Kamoshida. Makoto has her hands full trying to deal everything and reigning Kobayakawa in. 

Sumire is livid. Futaba remembers the bug and Ren's shifty behavior and confronts Ren and Ryuji. Ryuji and Ren confess to bugging Kamoshida's office and getting info, but Ryuji didn't do anything with the information. Ren then says he took action, which shocks the other two, but Ren insists it wasn't anything bad. He got Kamoshida to resign, and that's what's important. He encourages Futaba to support Sumire and Kasumi, and to leave everything else to him. He manages to convince Futaba, but Ryuji doesn't look pleased with him.

The Hawaii trip happens, and Futaba is left without the others. Not even Akechi is around, thanks to his popularity skyrocketing. Futaba spends most of her free time going through the data the bugs pulled, and she hacks into Kamoshida's e-mail as well. There, she finds some strange messages between him and principal Kobayakawa. Something about sponsors and a metaphorical noose around Kobayakawa's neck. She tries to dig deeper, but gets stuck. 

When everyone returns from Hawaii, Futaba tries to spend time with Sumire, but her upcoming meet eats up all her free time. Futaba then shows Ren the e-mails, and Ren is intrigued. She also learns that Ren spilled the beans about being behind Kamoshida's confession. Makoto is angry at him, Ann and Haru are mildly disappointed, Yusuke is concerned, and Ryuji is worried he's going to get expelled. Futaba is as well, but Ren smiles and tells her he's handling it.

After the September meet, Futaba spends time with Sumire again. Sumire seems different in that she's hiding her emotions behind a facade, much like Kasumi, and Futaba can't get past it. The results from the meet come out, and Sumire barely placed. The school's upset, but Sumire only smiles in a fake way and says she'll try harder. Futaba is extremely concerned.

Time passes, and October rolls around. With the culture festival at the end of the month, people are starting to discuss what to set up and what guest to invite. Makoto is still mad at Ren, but she goes to Leblanc one evening and asks Ren to invite Akechi, since she and Akechi tend to end up debating and sniping at one another when they talk and Ren's the closest person to him. Ren calls Akechi, who accepts the invitation on the spot with the caveat that Shujin does everything it can to keep the paparazzi at bay.

Because things are looking fairly good, Futaba focuses all of her energy on Sumire. She visits Kasumi and learns that Kasumi has been trying to convince Sumire to not hate Kamoshida and let him get to her. In Kasumi's point of view, the damage is already done. Dwelling on it won't do anything positive for Sumire. Kasumi's been trying to play down how upset she is for Sumire's sake, and Futaba feels exasperated at how Kasumi's going right back to faking it and upsetting Sumire more.

More time passes. The culture festival rolls around, and everything's going as well as it can. Futaba drags Sumire around, and Sumire's mood even lifts a little. Akechi's guest stunt goes well, and he even manages to dodge Shujin's Akechi fanclub. Futaba has yakisoba and talks about how Sumire's is superior the whole time.

Then they get home and the police are at Leblanc. They arrest Ren for breaking and entering Kamoshida's home.

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

Everyone is in shock at the turn of events. The PT have a meeting to figure out what happened and what to do next. Partway through, Akechi walks in, looking serious. He tells them that he's learned of Ren's arrest, and while it's distressing, the evidence is solid and there's nothing anyone can do. Ren's in juvie, but only for a few months. Ideally, they'll be able to bail him out in a few weeks.

No one's mood is lifted upon hearing this, and Akechi says he'll do what he can and leaves. The PT break up the meeting shortly after. Futaba heads home. Sumire texts her asking if she's all right, and Futaba begs for a distraction. Sumire obliges by calling Futaba and telling her a story she and Kasumi used to love as kids. Futaba falls asleep listening to Sumire narrate. 

Kamoshida's trial happens. Because of his confession, he's declared guilty. However, towards the end of the trial, people bring up a Shujin student who broke into his home and defaced his property as proof of how fed up the student body was. Futaba realizes this is about Ren, and she decides to look into law to see what can be done. She remembers the e-mails Kamoshida and Kobayakawa exchanged and resolves to look into them further.

After the trial, she runs into Sumire who had to offer testimony anonymously about Kamoshida and Kasumi. Sumire's shaking with rage, and Futaba tries to comfort her. I actually have the scene written out:

* * *

The autumn sun, so low in the sky despite how early it was, stretched their shadows out until they were long, bleeding pools of black. Sumire stood in the golden light, hair glowing like fire, and trembled. Her bowed head stared at her own shadow, and her clenched firsts made her knuckles white.

"H-hey, Sumi," Futaba said. She tried to reach out, but it didn't feel right. She tried to take a step forward, but she knew Sumire wanted space. She tried to say something, but what words could she say?

"I hate him," Sumire said, and there was no weakness in her statement. In those three words were all the confidence and fire Sumire had struggled to find.

All it took was hate.

Futaba's heart seized in her chest as Sumire continued to speak.

"I'm not like Takamaki-senpai. I don't want him to live and suffer. I want him to die."

Futaba made a sound she tried to abort as soon as felt its conception in her throat. She failed, but Sumire didn't notice.

"I'm terrible, aren't I?" Sumire's voice didn't shake. "I must be the worst person in the world, but I can't help feeling this way. He— He broke Kasumi's leg! He broke Sakamoto-senpai's as well, and assaulted so many people! He's one person, but he ruined so many lives! It took all of us to get him in prison! Ren-senpai is in juvie! And we're supposed to be happy with that?!"

"S-Sumi," Futaba said. What was she supposed to do? What was she supposed to say? No show or book or article ever properly warned her for how difficult it was to think when someone was breaking down in front of her. Hundreds of articles and blog posts wiped themselves out of her memory. Her brain wasn't giving her any output.

The only thing it was doing was committing the sunlight setting Sumire's hair on fire as she finally folded and sank to the ground. Her white knuckles gripped her stockings so tightly they tore. She buried her face into her thighs and screamed.

Futaba watched her. Watched her back gleam in the sunlight. Watched her front cast itself in her own shadow. Listened to her scream taper off to a scratched, husky whimper.

Sumire sobbed, and Futaba's brain finally executed a function to her body.

Her knees hit the sidewalk with too much force and skidded against the concrete. Scraped up, but the pain didn't matter. What mattered was Futaba throwing her arms around Sumire. What mattered was pulling her into a hug. What mattered was letting Sumire hold Futaba in return.

Sumire's strong gymnast arms wrapped around Futaba so tightly it hurt. The scent of her floral perfume tickled Futaba's sinuses. Sumire's back was warm from the sun.

This, too, was going to be a memory permanently engraved into her soul.

"I'm sorry," Sumire said through her tears. "Your brother's in jail, and I'm... I'm complaining about how I could have had it better."

Futaba's mouth was dry. Talking, thinking, trying was so difficult. "No, Sumi, you— You aren't, I mean. Ren's not in jail because of you! You don't need to apologize. I hate Kamoshida too. I don't think you're terrible for wishing he was dead."

"Kasumi doesn't want him dead! He shattered her leg, and she's satisfied just with him going to prison! I— I don't understand!"

'She's putting on a brave face for you,' Futaba wanted to say. 'She's still acting like she has to be the good example. The good role model. She might have learned it's better for you both of she showed some vulnerability, but it hasn't sunken in. Problems aren't miraculously fixed by someone pointing out they exist.'

Futaba wanted to say those words. Should have said them. But her tongue was a stone that filled up her cowardly mouth.

* * *

Sumire apologizes and Futaba escorts her home. Head and heart too muddled with emotions, she buries herself in work, trying to eek out connections and information since Kobayakawa was in on it. She sends Makoto everything, knowing that she'll get lectured but not caring because she can't let Kobayakawa's involvement go. She falls asleep at her computer.

The next day, after school, Akechi asks to meet with her. She invites him into her room, wondering if he wants her to do some under the table hacking or something for him. Instead, he tells her coldly to stop looking into Kobayakawa and warns her that she's messing with something not even the police have power to stop. 

Futaba's stunned, and Akechi says that she needs to stop for not only her sake, but Ren's as well. Ren can get out early. He's going to have a mark on his record for life, but that's better than getting arrested for extortion, which is what he actually did. Breaking and entering, defacing property—both of those are lighter crimes, especially for a juvenile. Extortion, however, is a felony. Regardless of age, Ren would be locked away for good if a court found him guilty of that.

Futaba realizes Akechi is the one who snitched. All of the fear, frustration, and other feelings she's been barely managing come out. She yells at him, asking him how he could do that to a friend. He yells back that he reported Ren because Ren is his friend. Better to take the initiative rather than have someone else do it and tell the truth.

Futaba can't handle what she's learned and screams at Akechi to leave. He does so. She breaks down and sends distressing texts to Sumire because she can't handle the fallout of the PT knowing. To her surprise, Sumire responds by saying she'll be there shortly.

When Sumire arrives, Futaba is a wreck curled up on the floor with all of her blankets. Sumire sits and holds Futaba as Futaba lets everything out. Sumire listens and holds on, and Futaba wails into her shirt. They both end up crying from the weeks of everything that's happened, and Sumire ends up spending the night with Futaba, huddled up in her blanket nest. 

In the morning, Sojiro treats them to breakfast and says he's called Sumire's parents and spoken to them. He's convinced them to let her take a day off school to process everything that's happened. He also relays to Sumire her parents want her to start seeing a therapist, and he thinks that's a good idea for both her and Futaba. 

Futaba is understandably nervous, but Sojiro says he has connections from Wakaba he can call up and see. He tells her that his first priority is Futaba, so if she doesn't like a therapist, he'll help her find another one and another one until she's either sick of it or finds one she likes. However, he wants her to try. 

After breakfast, Sojiro drives her back to her parents' place. Futaba texts the PT with what she's learned, and as predicted, everyone explodes in rage over Akechi. They have a meeting later that day and discuss what to do to help Ren. They all agree to cut off ties with Akechi.

October rolls into November. November rolls into December. Eventually, Ren is let out of juvie, although he's been expelled from Shujin. Kasumi gets cleared to go back to school with a cast. 

Futaba arrives at Leblanc one evening after spending the afternoon with Sumire. Ren teases her about the date, and Futaba blushes and says it's not like that. Probably.

In the midst of their bickering, the door opens and Akechi walks in. The conversation instantly stops. Futaba is the first to recover and yells at Akechi to leave. Akechi does not, however, and in fact ignores her completely. He says Ren looks like he's doing well. Ren gives a cold response saying Akechi has some nerve showing his face around Leblanc.

Akechi plays it off like he's not bothered. He says Leblanc is still his preferred place for coffee and it's nice how none of his fans know it exists. Ren tells him to go chat up one of his fans if he wants to talk, since Ren has nothing kind to say to him.

Akechi then drops the act and says he doesn't care what either of them have to say to him. He's only there to give them one last piece of advice: live their lives as normally as possible. A lot of changes may be happening in Japan soon, but it's not going to affect them. Just live normal lives and let the professionals deal with things.

Both Ren and Futaba yell at him to leave, and Akechi does so. Futaba's good mood is ruined, and she wonders aloud if it has anything to do with Kobayakawa and Kamoshida's e-mails. She contemplates looking into them again out of spite, but Ren says Akechi is probably trying to bait her into doing it. If she wants to act out of spite, ignoring him and forgetting about it is the best thing to do.

That night, Sumire texts Futaba. Futaba's mood lifts again. Sumire has had good success with her therapist and says she got a recommendation from her about a therapist that deals with grief, loss, and anxiety that Futaba might want to try. They talk for a little while longer, and Sumire asks her what her Christmas Eve plans are. Futaba confesses to not having any, and Sumire asks if she'd like to maybe spend it with her. Futaba tries to not read too much into it as she responds yes, and Sumire responds happily with a heart emoji. Futaba goes to sleep with a smile on her face.

THE END


End file.
